


Heads to Hearts in Hands

by Myrt



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Avengers, Emotional Manipulation, Established Relationship, M/M, spiderio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:00:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29740482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrt/pseuds/Myrt
Summary: All characters are 18 and above. This fic does not contain minors or at least no minors involved in anything sexual. I will edit the tags in case necessary. The chapters are short and I only have a vague idea of where I am going. There is also no beta. This is just me aimlessly writing in an attempt to fight corona depression.Also, this fic does contain mild emotional manipulation. It's a Quentin Beck/Peter Parker fic after all.Quick summary; Peter's has been thinking about his relationship with Quentin. He knows their relationship isn't perfect, yet he loves him still. But he has never hurt Peter or made him do anything he didn't want to. Right?
Relationships: Quentin Beck & Peter Parker, Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Kudos: 9





	1. Friday

‘Peet!’ Tony called out from down the stairs. Peter jumped out of his room, bag over his shoulder. He looked over the railing. ‘Does May know you’re not going to be at her place this weekend?’ The billionaire questions. Peter pockets his phone before slipping his headphones on his neck.

‘I think so.’ He responds. Wondering whether he had actually informed her.

Tony shook his head. ‘If I get a call from her I will be taking your suit back.’ Peter gives him a sheepish grin. He takes out his phone again, making his way down the stairs and simultaneously texting his aunt in the process.

‘Don’t walk the stairs while texting.’ Another voice rang through the hall. Peter looks up, nearly missing a step in the process. Steve raises an eyebrow at him. Peter mumbles a quick sorry, making sure to finish his text before finishing the stairs.

A car honks outside. Peter’s eyes widen in excitement. ‘Is that Beck?’ Steve questions. Tony rolls his eyes. Peter pockets his phone. Running down the stairs, skipping the last four steps.

‘Play nice okay.’ Tony states. ‘If he hurts you I’ll hurt him back.’

Peter chuckles. ‘I know.’ Both Tony and Steve follow the kid outside. Where indeed, Quentin Beck stood waiting next to his car.

‘Peter, sweetheart.’ He greets the spider-man. ‘Mr. Rogers, Mr. Stark.’ He nods at the two man. Peter skips over, although if you asked him he would never admit that he skipped. Quentin wraps an arm around the boy’s waist. Whispering something in the boy’s ear. Making the tips of the younger man’s ears flush.

The boy gives Steve and Tony a quick wave before getting in the car. Both man stare at the car uncertain whether they should let them leave at all. The guy was a complete mystery, even after Tony had told FRIDAY to find every dirty detail about him.

But there had been nothing. The man was clean. Had been working for Tony for years, never any trouble. Until Peter had taken a liking in him. Quentin honks as he drives away from the compound.

‘I don’t like him.’ Natasha breathed. Giving Steve a minor heart infarct.

Tony glares at the car disappearing around the corner.

‘FRIDAY, anything new?’


	2. Saturday

Peter allows his head to rest on the other man’s exposed chest. Running his fingers over the man’s collarbone. Mind wandering to a training session he had taken earlier this week. Sam hadn’t gone easy on him and Peter was sure Steve had set him up. He knew they trained him hard, all with the right intentions. But it had left him exhausted. ‘-Sweetheart?’ Peter looks up.

Quentin runs a hand through the boy’s hair. ‘Where were you?’ He questions. His voice soft and calm. Peter liked him best when they got to spend their time like this. No arguments, no remarks that would sting for days. Peter smiled at him.

‘I was thinking about my last training with Sam.’

Quentin raises an eyebrow. ‘Are you thinking about other man in my presence?’ A playful smirk across his lips. Peter snorts, lowering his head again.

‘Just a little.’ Quentin’s fingers grabbed a fist full of hair, forcing Peter to look up.

Another hand sneaks around his waist, turning Peter on his back. Quentin hovering over him. ‘You know better than to think of other men, sweetheart.’ His last word coming out in low growl. Peter made an attempt to kiss the man, but the hand in his hair held him in place. ‘Don’t you?’ The man’s free hand, travel down over his abdomen making Peter giggle.

Quentin leaned in as Peter closed his eyes. Their lips barely connecting, allowing for a soft little kiss. Peter sighed through his nose, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck deepening the kiss. Quentin releases his grip, cupping the boy’s jaw, finger tips grazing delicately across his temple.

Peter felt like melting, Quentin knew exactly what he was doing. The other hand continuing to rest on his abdomen. Quentin tasted faintly of the whiskey he drank earlier after their dinner. Whiskey and hints of cherry from their dessert.

The boy lifted his chin, pecking the man on the tip of his nose. Quentin chuckled, pulling away enough for them to look comfortably look at each other. Both hands planted next to Peter’s head. ‘I love you.’ He said, brushing a stray hair from the man’s face. Quentin smiled at him.

‘I love you too sweetheart, I really do.’


	3. Sunday

The sun was slowly setting on them, sitting on the rooftop, empty plates from their dinner still surrounding them. Quentin lowered his whiskey glass, absentmindedly swirling the drink in its glass. His mind on something Peter knew would come out any second know.

He had felt it building up over dinner, an odd sense of pressure in the back of his head. It was similar to his spider sense but the familiar tingle he had learned to trust never left his heart aching. Peter loved Quentin, he truly did. Yet in moments like this, he made him feel almost nauseous. He didn’t dare talk to him about it, nor had he ever told anyone at the compound.

Peter eyed the glass, whiskey still swirling. He rolled his shoulders trying to ease the tension in them. Eyes back on the lowering sun. Daylight would soon be absent, leaving them in the dark, pressed under Quentin Beck’s ever growing frustrations.

They were hardly ever of a serious matter. Yet, they weight on him. On them. Their relationship. On Peter. He takes a breath, there was a tremor. ‘Beck?’ Peter tried.

The man’s eyes shift to Peter, the swirling stops. The whiskey rests. His eyes were dark, the last sunlight illuminating his skin, highlighting his tense jaw. His teeth grinding over each other ever so slightly.

‘Why was Wade at the compound?’

‘Wade?’ The merch-with-a-mouth’s name falls from his mouth before he can catch it. Quentin looks back at the sun. ‘ _tsk_ ’ Peter rolled his shoulders once more. ‘I-I don’t know.’ He puts his own cup down, the chocolate had long gone cold. ‘He shows up sometimes, I don’t know why.’

Quentin nods. But there was no approval or acceptance. Menace. Behind his eyes, hidden in his jaw, inside the protruding veins in his hands. ‘Baby boy’ Peter feels his body tense, the small hairs in the nape of his neck standing up.

‘You like it when he calls you that?’ Quentin looks back at Peter. ‘Sweetheart?’ He cocks his head. The term of endearment Peter loved so much abused into mockery. ‘Do you?’ Peter looks up at the men, their eyes meeting. He could feel his eyes burning.

‘I don’t.’ He answered.

Quentin rolled his eyes. ‘Of course you don’t.’ He sat up only to lean forward, lower arms resting on his knees. Peter took a shaky breath. ‘Better tell him Pete.’ Quentin hisses. Peter bit his lip, nodding quickly.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. ‘I- I’m sorry Sweetheart.’ Quentin gets up, pulling Peter from his seat into his arms. ‘It’s not on you.’ Peter wraps his arms around the man’s waist. Hot tears, held back tightly behind his eyes. Resting his head against the man’s chest as his arms wrap themselves tightly around him. The last sunlight dying around them.

‘It’s him.’


	4. Monday morning

Backpack in hand, Peter stood waiting at the door. Quentin lowers his sunglasses on his face, opening the front door. Wordless they make their way out of the apartment onto the gallery. Peter’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He quickly checked it as Quentin locked the door.

_How was your weekend, will I see you after school today?_

Peter smiled down at his phone, fingers running over the screen sending a reply. A pair of lips pressed themselves against Peter’s temple. ‘How’s May?’ Peter smiles up at him.

‘She’s good, I’m like ninety percent sure Happy stayed over.’ He chuckles. Quentin runs a hand through the boy’s hair.

‘Let’s go, if you’re late after a weekend here Tony will have my head.’ They make their down the stairs to the parking lot.

Peter fastens his seat-belt. Waiting on Quentin to start the car and take him to school. The ride was calm, the roads busy but nothing crazy. They were a little on the early side, but as Quentin helped remind him after every weekend. Tony would murder Quentin if Peter would ever be late. If Natasha wouldn’t get to him first.

He smiled out of the window. Before they knew it, they arrived in front of the school’s parking lot. Peter unbuckled his seat-belt, bending over to kiss the man goodbye. Quentin slit an arm around Peter’s waist, pulling him in closer. Peter stumbled, ending on his knees on the passenger side. Thank the gods for whomever invented tinted glass.

A hand sneaked over to his backside, giving a squeeze making Peter squeal. ‘Beck!’ He exclaimed. Quentin merely smirked at him before pressing their lips together once more.

When they pulled away Peter felt his lips had swollen ever so slightly. MJ was definitely going to make fun of him later. ‘Meet me for lunch later this week?’ The man asks, drawing Peter’s attention back to him. Peter couldn’t help but smile. He nodded and grabbed his backpack from the floor.

‘Thursday maybe?’ He questioned as he opened the door.

Quentin restarted the motor. ‘I’ll text you.’

Peter climbs out, giving a quick wave before closing the door. He takes a second to watch Beck turn around the corner before making his way across the parking lot.


	5. Monday afternoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains sexual themes!

The day slowly crept by. Peter found himself just a little distracted. Perhaps, a little more than a little. The touch of Quentin’s fingers still feverishly burning on his skin. The man’s lips haunting him whenever he spoke. MJ had made fun of him the moment she met up with him at his locker that morning.

It had been too easy. ‘how was your weekend Peter?’ She had asked snickering at the sight of him. His cheeks still glowing, his lips swollen and eyes far away in a daze.

He focused his eyes back on the screen in the front. A complicated math problem written out to the t. Peter never had problems with math. But right now his brain was between his legs, daydreaming about Beck’s perfect mouth. The feeling of his beard rubbing against the sensitive parts of his thighs.

Peter groaned, rubbing his face. He had to calm down or else he wouldn’t be sure how to leave the class with his integrity in check. ‘Parker?’ Peter looked up. ‘Are you still with us?’ The teacher questioned. He could feel his cheeks flush.

‘Yeah, sorry.’ He managed to bring out.

‘Rough weekend?’ The teacher questions. His ears flushed. ‘We’re in class now, you can dream about your girlfriend in your free time.’ The teacher turns back to the board. Leaving Peter feeling even more embarrassed than he had already been.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. As quiet as he could he took it out, looking at the message he received. He expected it to be MJ or Flash. But instead there was the indication of a picture. From Quentin.

For a moment he contemplated not opening it. But Quentin didn’t usually send pictures and Peter found himself curious. He knew he had been working on a big project, maybe they had a breakthrough.

He looked up, checking to see whether his phone had still remained unnoticed. Much to his pleasure it had. He pressed the download button, regretting it instantly.

He shoved the phone back in his pocket, grabbed his back and dashed through the door. ‘Parker!’ His name rang through the hall. But he had no time, he ran down a flight of stairs and stumbled into the bathroom, straight into a stall. His heart racing in his chest, beating in his head, throbbing in his groin.

Locking the stall he groaned at the situation in his pants. All he could do was pray that nobody had noticed. But he feared the opposite. He hadn’t exactly been subtle. With a sigh he lowered the seat cover, before sitting down on it.

Taking out his phone he opened the picture. The picture was dark, mostly silhouettes and bright eyes. Quentin’s eyes, hazy. Hand around his cock, leaking cum. Peter felt his the heat radiating from his face. He swiped up, back to the text menu. _How’s class?_ It read below the image.

Peter quickly typed up a response, violently ignore the desire to touch himself. _You’re an animal._ Blue marks seemed to follow in seconds. He had already read the message.

_Show me._ Peter looked up at the ceiling. The bathroom was empty, would probably be for another thirty minutes. His phone buzzed in his hand.

Peter lowered his gaze back to the screen. _You don’t have to if you don’t want to._ It read. He let the idea roll through his brain. But his brain was still very much between his legs, begging for attention. He unzipped his pants, there was a wet patch where he pressed against the fabric. Without another thought he took a picture and send it to his boyfriend.

He took a deep breath, in an attempt to calm himself down. His phone buzzed again, but this time it was a voice memo. Peter cursed, taking his headphones from his bag. Making sure to sync both devices properly. Whatever was in the memo, Peter didn’t dare put it on the speaker.

Fingers slightly shaking he pressed play. ‘W _here you thinking of me, sweetheart?_ ’ A breath. ‘ _In class? Damn Pete._ ’ Another breath. Peter palmed himself through his boxers. His breath going shallow. _‘What were you thinking about?’_ The man chuckled. ‘ _My cock buried deep inside you? Like Saturday?_ ’ Another breath. ‘ _Or maybe my lips around you, you liked that didn’t you?_ ’ Peter gulped as the voice memo ended. He could totally imagine the man touching himself at the moment. Another voice memo came in.

‘ _I love you._ ’ His voice was hoarse. ‘ _I love you so much sweetheart._ ’ A gasp. ‘ _Wish you were hear._ ’ Peter bit down at his lip. ‘ _Can you hear the sound of me touching myself, this is all you._ ’ A breath followed by slick sounds, wet sounds, ragged breaths. Peter found himself so close his fingers auto-piloted straight to the third voice memo without a thought.

_‘Cum for me Pete.’_ Peter was lost. His mind send far away as he rode out his orgasm in the palm of his hands.

Slowly the world came back, sweat had formed on the back of his neck. His hand covered in a mixture of sweat and seamen. He didn’t even think about it as he took another picture. Showing his stained boxers and slightly shaking hand.

Quentin send another picture, his hand too covered in cum. _You’re so pretty._

_See you Thursday._


	6. Monday late afternoon

Peter hadn’t dared going back to class after that. Instead he decided to call it a day and just go home. May wouldn’t be home until five, giving Peter plenty of time to calm down and hop in the shower.

The water ran down his back. Eyes closed he allowed the event from that morning to roll through his head. It had been stupid. Running out of class the moment he checked his phone. Ned had sat beside him. Peter could only hope his friend hadn’t caught a glimpse of his screen.

But it had been a very dark picture, Peter’s mind had already been racing. Filled with thought about Quentin Beck. On his way home he had texted both MJ and Ned that he went home because he was feeling ill. They’d cover for him.

As he stepped out of the shower, he heard his phone buzz in the pants discarded on the cold bathroom floor. Towel around his waist he fished it out of the fabric. There were multiple messages from multiple people.

_Sup, Penis Parker._

A message from Flash. Of course. The next text was from MJ.

_Flash is onto you._

Peter sighed, walking back into his room. He pressed the final text from his aunt hoping for something that didn’t correlate with today’s events.

_Happy will be joining us for dinner tonight. Text me if you mind._

Peter snorted at May’s text. Happy had indeed been staying over during the weekend. He threw his phone at his bed. Once he got dressed in a pair of clean clothes and threw the stained once in the washer he dropped himself on his bed.

For a moment he simply stared at the ceiling. He had gotten off in a school stall. A public bathroom. Peter groaned, rolling on his side. Opening his conversation with Quentin. Looking back at the pictures they had sent each other. He cheeks flared again. Wondering whether he should let the man know he went home early. He sighed.

He would tell him Thursday during lunch. His phone buzzed again.

Tony.

_Why aren’t you at school?_


End file.
